Zhao Dailin’s relationship with Hu Yuchen ended that autumn.

Beijing was particularly cold that year. The campus was covered with a thin layer of fallen leaves; when the wind blew, everything was bathed in golden yellow.

At that time, Zhao Dailin sat alone on the sports field, resting her chin on her hand as she texted Hu Yuchen. The wind blew through her hair as her fingers quickly pressed a string of words on the keyboard: “I won’t be coming over this week.” After thinking, she added another sentence: “I won’t be coming anymore in the future.”

She had barely put down her phone when it beeped. His reply came quickly. “Okay, take care of yourself.”

Zhao Dailin glanced at it, then tossed her phone aside. Not long after, her phone vibrated again. He had sent another message: “I’m returning to Nanjing tomorrow. Would you like to have dinner tonight?”

The dinner location was obviously at Hu Yuchen’s apartment.

Hu Yuchen cooked himself—a bowl of tomato and egg noodles. Zhao Dailin had secretly made this dish for him when she was in middle school.

That time, Hu Yuchen and several boys from his class had secretly gone to an internet café and were punished by his grandmother. They went a whole night without eating. Feeling sorry for him, Zhao Dailin secretly made him a bowl of egg noodles. But Zhao Dailin didn’t know how to cook. She looked at the recipe on the computer while cooking, and ended up with a lump of blackened stuff that she hurriedly put in a bowl and brought to him.

At that time, Hu Yuchen was very dismissive: “What is this?” Zhao Dailin held the bowl: “Tomato and egg noodles!” Hu Yuchen picked at it with his chopsticks, extremely disgusted: “Is this even edible?” “It probably won’t kill you,” Zhao Dailin said uncertainly. “I can’t let you go hungry, can I? When I was little and my parents weren’t home, my brother always made food for me. It looked about the same, and I turned out fine.”

Hu Yuchen was so hungry his eyes were blurry. He couldn’t care about anything else, so he pinched his nose and quickly stuffed the food into his mouth, swallowing without chewing, just to fill his stomach.

It was the same dish—egg noodles—and although his version looked and tasted much better than the one she had made, it lacked the purity of her bowl from years ago.

“When did you learn to cook?” Zhao Dailin lowered her head, looking at the colorful, fragrant noodles in front of her.

Hu Yuchen lowered his head and twisted a chopstick of noodles: “In Nanjing. I’ve been cooking alone.”

“What about her? Didn’t she find you a housekeeper?”

Hu Yuchen’s hand paused as he was picking up the noodles. He slowly took a bite and said nothing.

Zhao Dailin didn’t ask further. She casually picked up the chopsticks, took a small bite of noodles, and then pushed the bowl back: “I’m full. I’m leaving. From now on, pretend you don’t know me when you see me.”

Hu Yuchen leisurely ate his noodles. The golden-rimmed glasses were surrounded by rising steam, hiding his captivating eyes.

Despite what Zhao Dailin said, he continued to eat his noodles without saying a word.

When Zhao Dailin reached the door, she realized she couldn’t get out. His apartment was obsessively secured—coming and going required his fingerprint. Zhao Dailin asked him to open the door, but he ignored her, continuing to eat his noodles at a leisurely pace.

Zhao Dailin went crazy, frantically pounding on the apartment door.

He remained composed, eating half the noodles in his bowl.

It wasn’t until Zhao Dailin took out her phone to call the police—she had even dialed the number—that Hu Yuchen stood up and snatched her phone away. He bent down to kiss her, pressing her against the fish tank behind her, grabbing her hand, and pressing it tightly against the tank wall. His slender fingers interlocked with hers. He bit her—bit her—on her neck. Zhao Dailin gasped in pain, kicking and hitting him, but he took advantage of her moment of weakness. Half-resisting, half-yielding, they ended up back in bed, that most primitive place.

They tumbled in passion until daybreak.

When she finally woke up, Hu Yuchen was already dressed neatly, sitting by the window. Zhao Dailin efficiently went to the bathroom and took a shower. Hu Yuchen found her clean clothes to change into. “I’ll take you back, then I’ll go to the airport.”

Zhao Dailin responded with a sound of agreement, not wanting to entangle further with him.

However, what she didn’t expect was that before leaving, Hu Yuchen gave her a sum of money—seven figures.

“What does this mean?”

“Consider it payment for your troubles during this time,” Hu Yuchen said.

It was like having a bucket of cold water poured over her head, completely extinguishing Zhao Dailin’s already cold heart. Any remaining illusions she had about Hu Yuchen were thoroughly crushed.

Zhao Dailin took the check and threw it directly into the fish tank nearby. Without anger, without rage, she simply said quietly: “Thank you.”

That night, Zhao Dailin took twenty sleeping pills and lay on her bed. As she was lying there with foam coming from her mouth, she was discovered by Jiang Yiyi, who had gotten up to use the bathroom. Jiang Yiyi immediately sent her to the hospital to have her stomach pumped, fortunately saving her life.